The Glorious Crusade
by RoastyMyToasties
Summary: The Crusader and the Vestal have a conversation in the quietest spot they can find. One-shot, unless I feel like making a short follow up chapter. Rating higher for language and uhhhh exremely suggestive themes.


The four heroes trudged their way back into the Hamlet. They had just returned from an excursion into the Warrens, and the group had barely made it out in one piece. The journey back was spent in silence, and upon entering the village a few immediately went their separate ways. An exhausted plague doctor declared that she would be at the bar if needed, and the former highwayman silently made his way in the direction of the brothel. Only the crusader and the vestal were left standing at the entrance to the degenerative town. Neither of them knew what they were going to do upon their arrival, and now that they were here they could not help but loiter. The town crier had declared the church closed after the Abbot had locked the doors, sequestering himself away and leaving the church darkened and uninviting. That left little to do for the warriors of the light. The two heroes considered each other in silence. They had always harbored a mutual respect, both being servants to the light in mind and in body, and they had spoken for a while in town on several occasions. They would hesitantly call each other friends. It was the vestal that finally broke the long silence of the road.

"What shall you do now, brother? I had wished to pray within the walls of the abbey, but it appears I shall have no such comfort tonight."

"I haven't a clue. The abbey has always been a place of peace for thoughtful recollection, but that blasted Abbot has dashed any hopes I had for solitude."

"Shall you go into town then?"

"Bah, nothing there but drunkards and whores. I have need for neither."

"And neither have I."

The two looked at each other, the crusader lightly rolling his shoulders to stretch out his sore arms and the vestal adjusting her heavy mace on her shoulder. Neither of them spoke again, but they nodded to each other and walked off into the village. Even if neither of them wanted to partake in the degeneracy of the hamlet, they still had need for warm beds after their ordeal. The dimly lit streets were empty save the few wandering souls either drunk off their minds or looking to be, the alleyways echoing with the sounds of the night. Nothing but tall dark buildings and the occasional stray decorated the village. Eventually, the pain came to a fork in the road. They gave each other a small wave when they parted on the cobbled roads, the vestal taking a right to walk towards her room and the crusader continuing down the main road. He walked until he stood outside of the place he shuddered to call 'home.' The place was a hot spot for degenerates and lowlifes, but the rooms were surprisingly clean and free of rats. Besides, no amount of drink could compel a man to pick a fight with a knight in full plate while armed with nothing but a dagger and a dream. Making his way up to his room, he entered and found everything thankfully how he had left it. He lit the few lamps that adorned the walls, and allowed himself to truly relax for the first time in what felt like days. It took him only a few minutes until he had laid the last of his armor on the wall beside his bed, and after kicking off his shoes he laid himself in the rickety bed. Determined to get a good nights sleep, he screwed his eyes shut and did his best to quiet his mind.

The vestal walked slowly down the dimly lit street. She had passed by where she stayed, deciding that sleep would be a fruitless effort while her mind still buzzed with the events of the day. There had been many horrors in store for them in the Warrens, the disgusting pig-men and their relentless assault had been almost too much to bear. She couldn't shake the feeling of one of their rusty swords tearing into the flesh of her arm. The pain had been horrible, the corroded blade ripping away at her more than it actually cut. She knew that her healing had repaired any damage, and the doctor had even given her an elixir to prevent against any infection from their vile surroundings. But the feeling of jagged steel ripping away at her flesh was still fresh in her mind, and she knew that she would need to expel it if she had any hopes of peaceful rest. Maybe she could find some quiet spot in the town to pray, she thought, wishing for any distraction from what had happened. That could be a good start. But as she looked around her, a serene place appeared to be the last thing in supply. The village was a hotbed of noise and distractions, the ceaseless shouting of drunkards and the occasional moan of a whore saturated the air. She was about to give up on finding peace when she remembered the ridge that overlooked the hamlet. She had noted it for the campsite she occasionally saw on the top, always wondering who or what had made their home there. Hoping that whoever they were wouldn't be there tonight, she turned around and started walking back down the dark street.

She arrived at the base of the ridge after a few more minutes of hurriedly walking through the alleyways. She gazed up at the sheer rock face, the top of the ridge a dark outline against the stygian sky. She looked left and right, wondering how one would reach the top of the heights. She couldn't climb up the near vertical rock, even if her body wasn't drained from the stress of combat. She was thinking on this problem when she noticed the footfalls echoing behind her. Turning around, she saw a dark haired man in a clean blue shirt and a long sword at his waist. His head was cocked confidently, and she could see the light stubble that graced his chin. His green eyes looked into hers, and he wore a confident smile on his face.

The vestal readied her mace. She hadn't been attacked since she had arrived at the village, but she had always known it would just be a matter of time until some drunken idiot tried his luck with her. Seeing her raise her weapon in preparation to defend herself, the man's face immediately fell into worry and he held out his hands in a pacifying gesture.

"Hold, vestal, I wish no harm against you. I simply saw you wandering the streets as well as I, and wished to join you for a walk."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. The voice was familiar, but only barely so. The man then realized that she didn't recognize him. At this he barked out in laughter, before quickly composing himself and clearing his throat.

"Ah, I see. It's me, Aubert, the knight you were with today. I only now realize that you have never seen me unarmored."

The vestal blinked. Now that she thought of it the man's voice did sound like the knights, albeit without the din of his helmet. She lowered her mace and stepped towards him, an apologetic smile on her face.

"I apologize brother, I did not know it was you I had the pleasure of confronting."

"No offense taken, it is my fault for being so brazen. May I ask why you are also out on this cold night?"

The vestal looked down at the cobbles, and paused before replying.

"I had wished to find some peace in this dung heap of a village. I had hoped to find solace on the ridge, but the cliff appears impassible."

The crusader nodded at her answer, his eyes closed and his hand scratching his stubble in thought.

"I know a way up, if that is what you desire."

"Truly? I would be grateful."

"Then follow me."

The crusader walked towards the ledge, walking along the base until he came to a specific spot of the rock face. Stopping and turning towards the vestal, he motioned for her to come to him. She moved and saw what at first appeared to be a ladder embedded in the cliff face. But after closer inspection, she saw that stone rungs had been hewn from the rock and into a steady and even set of footholds to climb. Aubert placed a hand on one and a foot on another, and began hoisting himself up the face of the rock. The vestal was hesitant to follow. Her body was tired from the fighting, and she knew that a single slip could mean the end. But eventually she also began to scale the rock face. After all, it would be rude not to follow after he had shown her the way. And she really wanted some quiet.

Struggling up onto the top of the ridge, the vestal looked around at the dark forest. Aubert was sitting with his legs crossed while he waited for her to climb up after him, smiling at her plight and resting his hands on his knees. He stood up, and turned to face the forest.

"I wouldn't venture into there alone. The road here was unforgiving, and I don't think the forests around here would be any more inviting. I made my way up here once before, out of curiosity, and found it to be a much more serene place than any in the hamlet."

"I am in your debt, Aubert."

Waving his hand in dismissal, Aubert placed his hands on his hips and took in a deep breath of the fresher air.

"Well, if that is all, I shall be off. Have to be up early tomorrow, and I would hate to intrude on your peace."

"Don't be in such a hurry to leave," said the vestal, her hands fondling the straps of her breastplate. "I know as well as you that you could use the quiet as well. Or did you decide that you weren't tired after all, and you simply walked aimlessly towards the quietest place you know?"

Aubrey scratched the back of his neck.

"Well, I had indeed planned to rest here, but my room must suffice if it is solitude you desire."

"Nonsense. Come, help me get this damnable armor off."

The vestal turned her back to him and pointed at a pair of dark leather straps at the small of her back, holding her pauldrons taught against her shoulders. He stepped forward and quickly unwound the leather strips, and with those last restrains freed the vestal shrugged off her armor. She was left in a plain red robe and a gambison beneath that. Aubert turned his back to her, and she took off the robe and removed her gambison. All she wore beneath was a chest covering top and a small pair of shorts. Throwing the gambison aside and re-donning her robes, she walked over to and sat down upon a large rock jutting out of the grassy surface. Turning back around, Aubert walked over to the rock as well and sat down at its base, leaning his back against a relatively flat part of the stone. He struggled a bit to unbuckle his belt and sheathe while sitting down, but managed to finally pull the belt through the loops of his pants and lightly tossed it to his side. They sat there together in silence, Aubert looking over the village with glassy eyes and the vestal sitting with her legs crossed and her eyes closed. The sounds of the hamlet were all but gone, with only the occasional shout or bark reaching the two at the top of the cliff. Aubert sat with his arms crossed, gazing at the dimly glowing streets of the hamlet, looking at the people below walking the streets and absentmindedly trying to pick out any familiar faces. After a few minutes of this, his eyes began to close and he could finally feel the tendrils of sleep inching towards him. The quiet of the cliff side was finally enough to get his wary body to rest. His eyelids were slowly dropping, and his head began to nod forward onto his chest.

"-about you?"

Aubert's head shot back up, and he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.

"Sorry, what?"

"Oh, I didn't realize you were nodding off. My apologies. I simply asked if you too were pondering the events of the day."

Aubert blew out a deep breath, trying to remember their journey. Their assault on the pig-men has been successful, but that did not mean the victory had been an easy one. He was more accustomed to the horrors of the battlefield, however, as leading the charge against the heathen men of the south countless times had inured his mind against such things. While the pig-men were different to anything he had previously encountered and certainly had many uniquely abhorrent traits, in the end they are just enemies. And all enemies eventually fall before the light.

"Well, no if I'm being honest with you. The daemons of that wretched estate are indeed horrific, but I have complete confidence that the light will always prevail against such evils."

The vestal hummed in approval, her eyes fixed on the ground in front of where she sat. She let down her hood and looked up at the sky, running her fingers through her hair and sighing.

"Of course, the light shall always prevail. And I am an instrument of the light. No evil can stand against our justice."

She sat in silence, staring at the clouds overhead. Aubert was looking at her, hearing the implied but in her tone and waiting for her to continue speaking.

"But I'm still afraid."

Aubert hummed knowingly at her response. He had suspected as much. She hid it well during their campaign, but he had seen too many recruits broken before him to not know the signs of fear. The way she walked slightly faster, the undetectable change in her head posture and the pitch of her voice, the extra ferocity with which she swung her mace that left her just slightly off balance.

"There is no need to feel shame towards your feelings, Joanna. It's only natural, of course, to be afraid. I understand that you are not used to being so involved in the fighting, and I would expect nothing less from one such as you. You are doing well, and any fear you may harbor is no detriment to your skill. Courage comes with standing up against any enemy. Dauntlessness comes with doing it a thousand times."

"Does it ever get easier? Dealing with the screaming, the blood, the weight in your arms after bludgeoning something to death? Because I cannot get these horrors away from my mind. I can't imagine a peaceful night where I don't feel steel ripping away at my flesh, the bloodlust of those abominations pouring over me. Does it ever stop affecting you?"

Joanna looked at him with worry and fear painted across her face. She looked like a nervous wreck, and Aubert thought any other woman would be on the verge of tears. He hesitated before replying, averting his eyes from her gaze and staring blankly over the hamlet.

"Yes."

Aubert took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, tapping his fingers on the earth.

"The truth is, it does. You get used to the gore and the death, you get used to the fear and the adrenaline, you get used to holding friends in your arms as they pass out of this world. It gets old. It all falls into patterns, nothing is unique. I've been on countless battlefields, with countless banners in my hand, and I've put down countless heathen men with my blade. In the end, only two things happen to the men around me. Either they can no longer stomach the pain and death and they desert, running away like lunatics in fear, hoping to escape the bloodshed, or they don't. They don't, and they become what every king wishes his soldiers could be. Ironed out, stretched thin, listening to and executing orders without question. Cutting down women and children becomes as benign as bucking wheat, and watching the light fall out of your comrade's eyes becomes as routine as changing a bandage. In the end, I know not which man is more broken."

He looked back at Joanna, the vestal staring at her hands in her lap. After a moment, Aubert returned his gaze to the village once it had become obvious he wasn't getting a response. He no longer thought of sleep. They returned to their silence, Joanna sitting stoically still and Aubert once again absentmindedly scanning the hamlet. He watched the final corner of the orange sun dip over the trees on the opposite side of the village, and watched as twilight quickly faded into night. This talk of lost friends and worried souls had gotten him reminiscing on a few of his past campaigns, and he allowed himself an indulgence in the sin of pride as he thought of the actions of he and his fellow crusaders. He was thinking of when he had been the first to jump over the ramparts of a castle under siege, cutting down heathen men left and right as his comrades climbed the ladder behind him. He remembered gloriously charging on horseback at a convoy, how their battalion had decimated the enemy on their first charge and only he and a few others were sent to silence the screams of the survivors. Thinking back on his triumphs always helped to ease his mind and reassure him of his holy purpose. It was the nip of cool air that made him realize that he should be returning home soon, unless he wished to make this grassy plateau his bed. He rose to his knees and had started to walk back to the stone ladder when he heard Joanna speak.

"So is that what you are now?"

Aubert turned back to look at Joanna quizzically.

"A good soldier?"

"Well," Aubert shrugged, "I'd dare to say so."

"And nothing else?"

Aubert sighed and walked back over to where Joanna sat. He hopped up onto the rock next to her and looked at her with his hands in his lap.

"That depends. If you're asking if I'm the man I described before, ironed out by conflict, then I would not hesitate to say yes. But if you ask if that is all that is left, if there was some other that got scrubbed away by war, then I would say no."

"But-"

"People don't understand that war changes a man. It doesn't make him somebody different or scrub away at his soul, it gives a man a new perspective of the world and of himself. Once you have seen every corner of man's black soul, once you have witnessed the sins of a hundred and stood in the blood of a thousand, you can't help but be different. So when you return home, you see a world that is benign. People that haven't seen what you have seen, people that will never know the true depth of the depravity of man, people who will never experience as much as you have. They think they see somebody different than who left, and believe the war killed the person they knew. But really, they were the ones left behind. Because war simply makes men move on as a person after experiencing all they have, changing to fit their surroundings just like any other would. So no, dear Joanna, I'm not a ghost in the shell. I've simply seen it all."

"But are you not? Because all I can see is a soldier now. Maybe you are Aubert on the inside of that armor, but on the outside there is nothing but the soldier. Maybe from the inside you see that you have gotten wiser from your experiences and are still the same man, but looking on the outside there is naught but steel."

Aubert fell silent. Joanna was looking at him with near motherly concern in her eyes, placing her hand on his knee. He jerked it away from her hand, but she hardly seemed surprised at his recoil.

"Was there ever anybody you loved, Aubert?"

"...Yes."

"And where are they now?"

"I... I don't know. I left them."

"Why?"

"B-Because I knew they would never accept me. Because I had seen so many shamed and turned away by their families, and I couldn't bear the possibility. I knew that I had changed too much, and they wouldn't recognize who I was anymore. I couldn't imagine them looking upon me as a stranger."

Joanna leaned forward towards him, and he looked up into her eyes, expecting pity. What he saw was anger.

"Bullshit."

"Excuse me?"

"You wish not to be rejected by your family, so you reject yourself? After how many weeks alone did you come up with that excuse? Do not take me for a fool, crusader, for your namesake brings holy wrath and unyielding mercilessness to every doorstep not seeped in the light. I know of your ilk, reveling in past crusades and remembering the slaughter of heathen men with jovial celebration. I have seen your prowess in battle and I have heard your zealousness across the campfire enough to know you have earned your title with countless bodies. And I know that the light has guided you on a path of holy retribution against all those who would desecrate it's glory. Do not pretend you aren't smiling under the helmet."

Aubert sat dumbstruck, taken aback by her words. Who was she to accuse him of such lies? But as he thought about what she said, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that she had a point. Was he not just now reveling in his past triumphs? Did he not recount his exploits at any opportunity with a smile on his face? He knew deep down that he enjoyed what he did, but he had always told himself that was the fulfillment of the light in his soul. But as he thought of it now, he knew what she said was true. He had been smiling upon those ramparts, and he had cut down the survivors with zeal. He had spent days at a time in great feasts, recounting tales of bloodlust and conquest with his brothers in arms. He knew that he had given himself completely to the light when he went to join the crusade, when he went to jump over the ramparts, when he rode down in that glorious charge. When he returned home. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see the vestal with a dangerous smile on her face.

"The light has little need for those who do not know themselves, crusader. Why did you leave?"

Aubert looked at his hands, and then back up at Joanna. He was smiling.

"Because I couldn't stop."


End file.
